Memory Kidnapped by Harvey

“Your car has arrived”, I am extremely surprised to be told during a rather slow board meeting which had degenerated into listening to Hans Keller pointing out how many notes in the score we were considering could not be played by the bass clarinet.

As one who always travels  by tube, this announcement is obviously nonsense but, compared to looking for mistakes in complex dodecaphonic scores, any distraction seems attractive.

“Are you sure?” I say.

“Well, he seems pretty sure!!!”

Intrigued by the impossibility of a lift to the South Bank, I make my farewells and descend the stairs to Exhibition Road, South Kensington. Parked by the side of the road I see a smart combi van.

“Get in!!!’ I hear a rather gruff Bronx voice say.

I naturally get in the front passenger seat and away we go through the back streets of North London.

“I’m Harvey Matusow”, says my kidnapper. “I need some advice and people tell me you are the man to see. But first, we eat!!!”

Harvey drives rather erratical as though being chased by aliens. But we eventually end up at the Falafel House somewhere near Hampstead. There, sitting around a large table, are members of “his” group, many of whom I know. Their attitude to Harvey is rather puzzling, as though overwhelmed  by his forcefulness. I am certainly overwhelmed. But, of course, I have never been kidnapped before. So we eat.

After eating and some agitated conversation, we depart.

“Where are we going?”

“You’re coming back to our house in Ingatestone.”

Eventually we arrive at the Ingatestone house where Harvey shares a farm house with his wife Anna.

We eat and drink together then retire to Harvey’s office where I am immediately given honorary membership of the ’Society for the Abolition of Data Processing Machines’. In return, I give Harvey some advice concerning some of his plans for a Festival. He then shows me his ‘Presidential Pardon’ framed on his wall

and recounts his stories about being chased by the FBI and having to take a job as a clown in a travelling religious circus to avoid them.

Harvey then takes his “Tincture of Cannabis” explaining how he is so overactive that he needs this to ‘slow himself down’. Judging from his behaviour over the last few hours, I vigorously concur with this statement.

They have converted a stable into a very comfortable apartment in which I spend the night. I sleep well without the need for TOC.

I awake next morning to the sound of piano ‘playing’ in the garden. I see a number of pianos apparently slowly sinking into the mud of the wet garden soil. Anna is going to each piano and recording the sounds each piano makes as it “dies” – although it sounds as though most of them are half dead already.

Breakfast is broken up by telephone calls from various sections of the media. Harvey explains that he is willing to give his opinions on anything futuristic to the media or anybody else for that matter. It crosses my mind that perhaps his opinions are garnered by ‘kidnapping’ other relevant people.

Eventually and admittedly reluctantly I have to leave as I have an important meeting later that morning. Harvey also has a television interview later in the day so he runs me to Ingatestone station and I return to the metropolis.

Epilogue

Later in the day my sister who lives in Writtle is given the job of carting a celebrity to the television studios for an interview. It turns out that the celebrity is Harvey!! She turns up at his Ingatestone house and sees pianos sinking into the mud of the front garden. Harvey jumps into the back of the car and, knowing that one of my specialities is “Weird Art” asks, “Do you know my brother?”

I later ask Hugh, a member of the group, about the situation with Harvey. He explains that Harvey has managed to get the Royal Engineers to give them equipment and even make items for their performances. The group is amazed that he can do things like that.

Much later, I maintain an email correspondence with Harvey. He seems to be as overactive as ever. He answers each email immediately within a few hours with an incredibly chatty monologue. He is intending to write his life story using contributions from people with whom he has made contact over the years. He tells me that his marriage to Anna broke down some time ago and she is now living in New York.

Harvey died in 2002. The outline of his book is in the page entitled “Zappy Harvey’s Book”. The “Zappy” has been added to put the page at the end of the list in the sidebar.